A fragment of letter drifts down to the street. You catch it, and unfold the charred edges.
"...know I will always lov..
..at never dies. It is th...
..f my passion that b...
...nd it cannot be ext..
....n heaven or....n hel..
....ill be by you...ide an...
......
...... yours foreve.........
... Mendates ........
..................................."
Looking up from the fragmented text you glance around at the rooftops. There. A minute snowfall of scraps of letters is cascading from the chimney of a half-timbered house nearby.
By: ephemeralstability |
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The leaves talk and caress the mind of those who are willing to listen. We know what it is they say and it does not bode well for the civilized lands to our west. Woe to them I say, the land will return to it’s natural state one day.
-Enio Lacvite - Knowledge Seeker of the Rred Leaf